


two slow dancers

by mondkind



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondkind/pseuds/mondkind
Summary: Adora only cares for dancing if Catra's involved.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 189





	two slow dancers

**Author's Note:**

> based of this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JO3wqLoFeNo) but also catradora is healing for the soul

> _ só sei dançar com você _
> 
> _ isso é o que o amor faz _
> 
> _ — tulipa ruiz _

The first time they dance, they don’t know they were doing it.

Physical display of affection was never encouraged in the Horde. Shadow Weaver scolded them every time she caught a glimpse of a hug that lingered for a little too long, but that never really stopped them from doing it— the Horde, after all, did a poor job of entertaining them most of the times, especially a group of eight-year-old kids. Outside of classes and training, they always found a way of doing something in the moments that there were no Force Captains near them. 

Older cadets sometimes brought things from outside the Fright Zone. Adora knew that there were things that weren’t supposed to be there, and the mere thought of it made her anxious but— but Catra always wanted to try it, eyes glimmering at the possibility of something new, and she could never say no. So, when the squadron brought in a black box that was supposed to make magic sounds, Catra tugged at her hand while her tail went around Adora’s leg. 

Adora could  _ never  _ say no. But— they were young, so the older cadets would only let them watch. But they stayed, nonetheless, while the black box started making weird sounds and they started swinging from one side to another, touching a  _ lot  _ more than it was allowed. Shadow Weaver would be enraged if she ever found out, but they were careful at least. It was dark, this was an abandoned room and the sound wasn’t  _ that  _ loud. Catra covered her ears at first, annoyed, but she soon grew used to it. It was nice, actually— sweet, somehow, rhythmic and it kinda made sense. Ador found herself swaying back and forth for the whole time they stayed there.

“It’s a music box,” one of them said, and she tried as hard as she could to remember that later. 

She didn’t get a name to what they were doing, though. If she was being honest, it didn’t even sound that appealing. They moved carelessly around the room, no rules, no sequence, nothing rhythmical about  _ that,  _ and Adora always liked to plan ahead of herself. What was the point in doing something so messy, something that could easily be embarrassing for her— and she didn’t want to make a fool of herself. She didn’t attempt in the following days, even though the melody got stuck in her head. 

That is, until Catra, on a random Thursday evening, asks her to come to play on their secret spot— it was the  _ coolest  _ abandoned room that even got a password! Nobody could ever bother them there, not even Shadow Weaver. After all, Catra only trusted Adora to keep her favorite number a secret. 

(Adora’s stomach did a flip when Catra first told her and asked Adora to promise to not tell, and, if she stood a little taller after the other kids, proud that she had something from Catra that no one could ever take from her, no one said a thing.)

“What do you want to do today?”, Adora asks as Catra locked the door. 

“Remember the other day that they brought a music box?”

She nods.

“Wanna try that.”

Catra stares at her with glowing eyes in the dark— not  _ dark,  _ but it was never a good idea to turn on all the lights here— and Adora wants to say that she hates the idea, but it’s Catra, and she really doesn’t hate anything that her best friend likes. Or  _ could  _ like.

“I don’t know how to do that,” she tries. “It sounds weird.”

“That thing they were doing was  _ ugly,”  _ Catra scrunches her nose and Adora laughs. “But I saw them doing something different the other night. I thought you may like.”

She shrugs. “Okay. But we don’t have any music.” 

“I’ll show you how to do it first,” Catra approaches her, scratching her arm, “then we can think about the music.”

“Okay.”

Catra is close, now. Adora is taller, even though Catra tries making her ponytail as high as possible to make up for that. (It doesn’t.) She doesn’t even have her shoes on, white socks on a not so clean floor, but Catra asks her to take them off— _ or else you’ll slip and fall and I’ll have to laugh at you _ — so she does. It’s different from what she saw the other night. She doesn’t think they should be this close, but she doesn’t stop Catra from holding one of her hands while she places the other awkwardly at Adora’s waist.

“Put your other hand on my shoulder.”

She complies. 

“This one has a sequence,” Catra says. “It’s easy to follow. Two steps to this side,” she adds, and Adora follows, a little stiff, “and then two more to the other side.” 

She tries it for a few times, stepping on Catra’s toes in some of them, but Catra doesn’t complain— instead, she laughs and doesn’t stop holding Adora’s hand. Adora is really glad for that— she thinks that, if Catra wasn’t holding her right now, she could easily fall and misstep. 

“Is this right?”

“Yeah. Easy, see. You go from side to side, but it’s not that simple. There’s a pattern.”

“That’s cool.”

“I know,” Catra smiles. “Do you like it?”

Adora stares at Catra’s mismatched eyes, cheeks a little too hot, but she  _ does  _ like it. To be fair, there could never be something shared with Catra that she wouldn’t like it. She smiles back. “Yeah.”

Catra looks down. “Now, this part is tricky, but I’m an  _ amazing  _ lead, so we’ll be okay.”

“What is it?”

“You have to do a little spin,” she giggles. “You can choose the side, though but you can’t let go of my hand.”

She would  _ never. _ “Okay.” 

It’s  _ awkward _ , spinning while holding hands with someone. But it’s a little dark, and Catra can’t see her perfectly, and, even if she could, it’s Catra, and she wouldn't really mind if Catra saw it. She knows Catra wouldn't make fun of her— well, she would, but not for  _ real _ , at least. She stops, arms extended, and waits for Catra’s instruction.

“Now you need to spin back to me.”

She does, stumbling on her feet. Her elbow hits Catra’s ribs and Adora giggles between mumbled apologies. But it’s nice, and she’s getting the hang of it and she doesn’t step on Catra’s feet anymore. She still has the music stuck in her head and Catra mumbles it, quietly. She decides she likes it— even if they somehow fall later, if Catra ends up being the one to elbow her and if she gets a little bit anxious to master it. This is different, and it’s  _ fun,  _ and it’s her  _ best friend _ , and  _ that  _ is far cooler than anything the older kids could’ve done.

  
  
  


Adora ends up enjoying it a lot as it becomes a constant on their friendship, even as they grow older. She was afraid that Catra wouldn’t like it anymore, but she still tugs at Adora’s hand to bring her to their secret spot and leads it, every time. At some point, Catra manages to steal a music box and Adora doesn’t complain. Some of the music is faster, and Adora finds that she doesn’t really like those, but most of it it’s slow— sweet, really— and  _ that  _ she really likes. Some nights, Catra would stand closer than she’s supposed to, and Adora wouldn’t mind. There was a moment in which Adora discovered that she kinda liked the swinging from side to side if she was doing it with Catra. 

In another one, after a failed attempt at doing it alone, she settles that she would only do it with Catra,  _ ever.  _

  
  
  


There’s a lot of dancing in the Rebellion— now, she learned the name. Even though it is the middle of a war, somehow there’s always soft music playing somewhere, and someone that would pull Adora— no, She Ra— to the center of the place and start swinging back and forth until Adora felt nauseous. She didn’t know how to do  _ that,  _ but she could learn, at least, if it was something She Ra would do— she didn’t, and, eventually, she stopped trying. It just wasn’t for her— she was always too stiff, too heavy, not delicate enough to twist and twirl and spin gracefully. It wasn’t even  _ fun.  _ Bow and Glimmer tried to show her how to lose it, and relax, but that just wasn’t her. And she wouldn’t— she  _ couldn’t—  _ open her mouth and say that she knew dancing, not because the Horde had it, but because Catra brought it to her life, and she didn’t know how to dance if Catra wasn’t by her side. Catra’s hand always fit her the right way and they followed the same rhythm— they always did, whether they were playing, dancing, or fighting.

The thought alone made Adora’s heart drop inside her chest, but she swallowed it— the same way that she ate anything that she could ever say when she caught a glimpse of Glimmer and Bow slow dancing in the library, the faint sound of a piano in the back. She swallowed it and never mentioned it, never even let herself think about it. And, when she gets the invite to Princess Prom, she lets Glimmer teach her the traditional dance. 

It’s complicated, at first, too many steps and too many partners involved but she gets the hang of it until it’s finally easy. She practices with Glimmer, then with Bow, and she laughs a little, even though anxiety is consuming her, and it’s fun but— but it’s not Catra.

  
  
  


Fighting Catra was one of the trickiest things Adora has ever done— they knew each other, knew weaknesses and combat style and it was almost as if there would be no way out. Adora would always attack and Catra would always defend and she would never really go for it and things just fell into place. Catra’s claws are always sharp, now, heavy hands and harsh knuckles, but not when they’re dancing. 

She doesn’t know who taught Catra the traditional dance and she doesn’t want to think about Catra dancing with somebody else. All she knows is that Catra follows her movements, leads her, hands on her hips and it’s soft, though her grip is tight. It’s unnerving and ridiculously easy and Adora’s nauseous, but they’ll always follow the same rhythm, and— Adora lets herself be lead by Catra, lets herself spin on the dance floor, and wonders if Catra dipped someone else when learning.

For a moment, she lets herself enjoy it— and she can only blame herself when she ends up alone, hanging off a cliff while everything slips away from her.

Bright Moon doesn’t get a lot of cloudy days, but today, Adora can’t even see the moons. The bedroom lamp is on, but the room is unusually dark. She frowns at the map spread in front of her— she wouldn’t be able to finish anything today, after all, not when the lamps kept dangling and distracting her. She piles the drafts and books on the desk, being extra careful to not mess her notes, even though Catra says they’re already messy enough— it’s the only way she can get it.

The door opens as she’s slipping onto her pajamas. She looks to the side and, even though it’s been some months now, she’s still in awe every time she catches the sight of Catra in her bedroom—  _ their  _ bedroom, now. Her chest gets a little bit lighter as Catra approaches, hands behind her back, and leans against the dresser. “Hey, Adora,” she smiles.

Adora mirrors it,  _ stupidly,  _ “Hi.”

“I got you something. Got us, actually.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes.”

She obeys, even though it’s already pretty dark for her to see anything— Catra would only need to turn the lights off. Still, she stands, fidgeting with her fingers as she hears Catra moving around the room. Finally, she takes Adora’s hand and guides her to what Adora knows it’s the center of the bedroom, and then there’s soft music echoing around them. She feels Catra getting closer.

“You can open now”, she says.

Catra stands in front of her. She hadn’t seen it earlier, but Catra is also in pajamas— or, better, pajama’s short and one of Adora’s long-sleeved shirts. There’s a faint blush in her cheeks as she looks up at Adora— and it’s not like Adora’s still amazed at her, but she is, because it’s Catra, looking at Adora like this is the only thing that matters, and Adora believes her. 

“You wanna dance with me?”

Adora sets one hand on Catra’s shoulder while she interlaces their fingers on the other one— the act it’s so natural that she blushes again. She gets closer, this time. “I always do.”

They move swiftly, falling into each other’s rhythm easily. They always do, after all, drawn to each other by forces bigger than them, bigger than anything they could’ve ever met.

“You remember it? We used to dance, sometimes. Back in the Horde.”

“Yeah,” she breathes. “How could I forget?”

“I mean, I always imagined you did lots of dancing here. In the Rebellion, I mean.” 

Adora gulps. She thinks about all the times that Bow tried to make her dance, the failed attempts with Glimmer and with the other princesses; the times where she hid in the library and tried swaying alone. There’s a lot she wants to say, and a lot that she  _ can  _ say now, but she still trembles. “I only like it if it’s with you.” 

Catra drops her hand, rounding Adora’s waist with her arms as she gets closer. They had danced before, in festivals and parties around Etheria, celebrating the end of the war. She had stared at Catra as they changed partners, music getting high and intense around them, and had smiled when she ended up in Catra’s arms again. It had been fun— a lot, actually. But they hadn’t done it alone, just the two of them, until now. Hadn’t danced in  _ their  _ way, swinging a little bit slower, movements a little bit crooked, until now.

“I can hear your heart,” Catra says. 

Adora lets her head fall to the crook of Catra’s shoulder, growing strands tickling her face— Catra had decided to grow her hair again, and now it hit her chin. 

“You know, you’re still  _ stiff” _ , she laughs, hands running on Adora’s back.

“Well, I didn’t get a lot of  _ practice.  _ Did you?”

“What, you jealous that I’m a better dancer or anything?”

“You always were the best between the two of us,” she shrugs and feels Catra’s smile.

“That’s true. But I’m a natural, I guess. Kicking your ass didn’t exactly leave a lot of time for dancing.”

She steps back a little as another song comes by, spinning Adora in her arms. 

“Losing sure takes a lot from you.” 

Catra laughs as they spin around the room. It’s not a light subject, yet, but they’re getting to it. Adora stumbles against Catra’s chest, memories of the last time they danced like this popping in the corners of her eyes. This time, though, the smirk that dangs from Catra’s lips is a gentle one.

“I didn’t.”

“What?”

“Dance with anyone else. I mean, there was Princess Prom, but that was it. Didn’t have much interest in it.” 

Adora brushes her thumb on Catra’s cheeks, slowly. “I really like this.” 

“I know, my  _ love.”  _ Catra raises her chin, bringing her lips close to Adora’s. She snorts. The pet name was in some of the books that Bow’s dads had brought to Bright Moon after the war. Catra thought it was ridiculous and cheesy, therefore, perfect for teasing Adora— even though Adora secretly enjoyed it, and secretly thought that Catra did too. But she wasn’t going to be the one to tell. Catra’s hands go up to her arms and she drops her shoulders at the touch. “I can’t believe that slow dancing is what it takes for you to relax.”

Adora snorts. “That’s what love does, I guess.” 

Catra doesn’t have an answer for  _ that  _ and Adora wants to laugh at the sudden blush in her cheeks and purring against her own chest, but Catra is faster, spinning and dipping her. This time, though, she leans in, and Adora lets herself be light under Catra’s touch as Catra kisses her. It’s easy, she thinks, once Catra is the one holding her, leading her. She doesn’t feel as stiff, and she can allow herself to mess up a little, even. Catra laughs, now, and kisses her even if Adora steps on her toes, spraying  _ stupid  _ pet names every here and then.

Adora doesn’t know how many hours they spend like this, but she doesn’t want to stop— even though she knows they can do it again and again tomorrow. They end up curled together on their bed, feet hurting, and it’s the same the following days. Catra, tugging at Adora’s hand, and Adora, following after her.

  
  
  


“I’m too clumsy to do it on my own,” Adora whispered, one night, sprawled on her bunk. Catra laid across from her. It was one of those nights where she couldn’t sleep and Catra was already on her way down before she could even  _ say  _ anything. “Like, I’ve been Rogelio, and he can do just fine, but I tried doing it and it’s just—  _ ugly. _ ” 

Catra snorted, turning to look at her. “You’re overthinking it, dummy. Just let it flow.”

“I  _ can’t,  _ that’s like, the whole problem.”

At the time, Catra had just rolled her eyes and gently kicked her on the shin. Her hands were underneath the harsh pillow and suddenly Adora missed the days where Catra would hold her hand until she fell asleep, but they weren’t children anymore, so she had to settle for it. 

“I guess,” Catra shrugged, tail around Adora’s hand laid between them “you’re just stuck to dancing with me only.” 

Adora stared her, too serious for her playful tone, and smiled. “I guess I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me at  
> [tumblr](http://%20angelselectric.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/catriadora) ♡


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